


Memory: Lost and Found

by whouffaldigarbage



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5887561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whouffaldigarbage/pseuds/whouffaldigarbage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picks up right after the Doctor's memory has been wiped in Hell Bent. The neural block was faulty, and he fights to remember. The two of them waste no time in acting on their feelings after being given this third chance. Clara is left with an impossible decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memory: Lost and Found

There were few things she was certain of. In a universe seemingly designed to test her imagination and perception, she had learned not to expect anything in particular, but there were several things Clara Oswald knew as facts. The sun rose in the morning. Her favorite color was green. And the Doctor still remembered her. The neural block had failed. He was still hers. And she had no idea what to do.  
After his head had rolled back and he’d lost consciousness, Clara held him in her arms, her face sparkling with tears that wouldn’t stop. Ashildr somehow pulled a coherent answer out of Clara, and the TARDIS was sent catapulting through time and space away from Gallifrey. Ashildr wanted to drop him off immediately, but Clara refused. She couldn’t leave him like this, confused and alone. Ashildr agreed to let Clara care for him until he woke, and left them mostly alone. They’d found a bedroom in the TARDIS and placed him within, Clara never leaving his side.  
He would twitch and convulse at times, as though he were in pain, but then it would subside and he appeared in deep sleep. He maintained this state for an entire day with no signs of waking. Clara drifted between groggy wakefulness and fitful sleep sitting by his side, but she refused to leave him alone for a moment.  
On the morning of the second day, he simply woke. His eyes opened as though he’d merely blinked, and he looked about the room with mild disinterest. Clara became aware of this by the pull of his hand in hers as he sat up.  
“Doctor?” she breathed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. He turned to look at her, frowning.  
“Your hand is cold.”  
She stared at him blankly before realizing. “Oh,” she said quickly, and pulled her hand out of his.  
“You should get mittens.” He harrumphed. “What happened to the ones I got for you?”  
Luckily, Clara Oswald didn’t have a pulse, or it would have stopped in that moment. Gooseflesh prickled her arms and neck. “What?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.  
He stared at her, cocking his head, as if she had asked him some non-sequitur like what was the circumference of a giraffe. “The fleecy ones with the ridiculous poofs on them.”  
“Doctor,” Clara swallowed hard and searched his face, “do you know who I am?”  
His mouth opened and closed as though he were trying to speak but the words died before they met his lips. A crease formed between his arched eyebrows as he looked at her. A shadow seemed to pass behind his eyes. “Should I?”  
No, she realized with a sinking heart, he didn’t remember her. But what was that about the mittens?… “No. No you shouldn’t know me.” Her eyes fell down to her lap as she hid the stinging tears forming at their corners. She blinked and pushed all of her emotion to some place deep within her, so when she looked back up at him, her face was a mask of neutrality. “Are you hungry or thirsty?”  
“No, I’m the Doctor.”  
“Yes, I know.”  
“Then why are you asking me if I was Hungry or Thirsty?”  
“Would you like something to eat or drink?”  
He peered at her skeptically down his nose, his eyebrows were in peak intimidating form. “Are you trying to poison me?”  
She blinked in surprise. “No, I would never—“  
“Great!” he said jovially and flung the covers back and swung his legs round the side of the bed so his feet touched the floor. “I am rather peckish, now that you mention it.”  
Before she could warn him about standing too quickly, he was up on his feet. She hopped out of her chair and caught him when he sagged, his legs having given out from under him from weak disuse.  
“Clara what’s happening to me?” he moaned, his face white as a sheet. She held him up around his chest and sat him back on the bed.  
“You’ve just had too long of a rest, you’re legs are tired.” She ran a hand over his forehead to feel if he were feverish.  
“How can they be tired if I’ve been resting? And why was I resting?” he stared up at her, those pale blue irises reflecting the light from the room. “And why can’t I keep you in my head?”  
Her hand lowered so it cupped his cheek, her thumb stroking his cheekbone delicately. “So you do remember me?”  
“You’re in and out—like a cable repair man. Or smoke. I can’t grab hold of you, I can’t make you stay.” His eyes clouded and his face winced as if he were in pain. His hand came up and encircled her wrist as he shut his eyes against whatever war raged on behind them. “Clara, I can’t lose you.” His voice was ragged, “I don’t want this. It was a mistake. I’m trying to hold on but–but—“ his grip on her wrist suddenly became painful as he exhaled sharply and his eyes flew open. Confusion etched along his face once more, his eyes searching and unsure as they looked up at her. He quickly let go of her wrist and pulled his face away from her hand as though she’d burned him with a branding iron. Clara stepped back, a lump in her throat becoming agonizing as she looked at him. He was fighting against it. Was that even possible?  
His eyes glared at her beneath his brow, and his voice was deeper than just a moment ago. “I don’t appreciate being touched.”  
“Sorry,” she cleared her throat. “You had a fall just now and I was helping you.” Was it that quick? His memories of her were fleeting, but they were still in there somewhere. The thought gave her hope, because, although she could never admit it now, she didn’t want to lose him, either. “I was going to take you to get something to eat, but in your state I think you’d best stay here and I’ll bring you something.”  
A slender hand waved away her words dismissively. “I’ll be fine.” He grouched. “Are you trying to poison me?”  
“No.” she repeated. He started to push himself off of the bed again and she immediately placed both hands on his shoulders, anchoring him down. He didn’t seem to like that one bit, she felt his body tense beneath her fingers and the air about him seemed to crackle with ire. His eyes were flashing with livid rage as he glowered at her, half-obstructed by his angled eyebrows. She lifted her hands from him. “Slowly.” She ordered. “Let me help you, please.” She offered her hand to him. He swatted it away. Without hesitating, she put it right back in front of him, challenge in her eyes. “Take my hand, Doctor.”  
“I’m not holding your hand.”  
“You will, or you’ll wait here until I bring you something to eat.” Her voice had an edge, it was her classroom voice. “I will accompany you to the kitchen if you let me support you because you cannot stand on your own without falling flat on your face.”  
Her hand hovered between them for a long set of beats, their eyes like lightning as they stared each other down. She still loved him, even if he didn’t know her and thought her to be the enemy. She still loved him while his gaze sent needles into her blood and made her skin grow cold. She never thought she’d feel the full brunt of his rage that he so often fired on foes and monsters. It was physically painful.  
Finally, finally, his hand reached up and gingerly took her hand in his, eyes never leaving hers, seeming to fear if he were to halt their shared gaze she would betray him. She helped him to his feet gently, he swayed for a moment, but with her support he maintained his balance. He blinked in mild disbelief as to the state of his weak knees and her correct assumption as to needing her arm. “There you are.” She smiled. “Now the walking bit might be tricky, but lean on me and it should go alright.” She turned towards the door and arranged herself so she was beside him so he could rest on her.  
“Do that again,” he murmured. She turned her face up to look at him, he was looking at her intently, but without anger.  
“Do what?”  
“That thing, with the lower half of your face…”  
She blinked at him, then her brain registered—she tried smiling at him again. Suddenly both of his hands were cupping her face, and their noses were mere inches apart. His eyes sparkled and softened. “There you are…” he whispered. “Clara, my Clara.”  
“Doctor,” she breathed. He was back, however momentarily. Her eyes blurred with tears.  
Neither of them could have ascertained who started it; they were standing holding each other looking into each other’s eyes, and suddenly they were enveloped in a passionate kiss. Her fingers raked through his hair, his hands trailed down her face, her neck, her shoulders, and tugged her closer, impossibly closer, until their bodies were pressed up against one another. The kiss was desperate and breathless; neither one of them wanted to come up for air, their mouths greedily devouring the other, tongues snaking across teeth and dancing without rhythm. Her lungs burned, her hand gripped his curls, ran beneath his jacket against his lean back. Her skin tingled where his fingers brushed her hips, and she whimpered into his mouth. She tried pulling her head back for air, but he only leaned in and continued the kiss unbroken. She pulled back on his thick curls which gently yanked his head away. She inhaled deeply, blood rushing in her ears, her face was hot. He panted, eyes searching her face, but not with confusion. It was as though he were trying to memorize everything about her, every freckle, every hair.  
“Clara…” he whispered, tracing a finger along the nape of her neck. “You’re in my head. And I won’t let you go.” He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I need you.”  
His words were heavy with meaning that sent a thrill down through her stomach and a shiver up her spine. She cradled his head against hers with her arm and held him close. She couldn’t deny her feelings towards him, not any longer, not when they had this third chance. Having that second chance to tell him the truth in the Cloisters was just the beginning, they never had a chance to act on their earnest words spoken to one another with glittering eyes. But now? It was as though fate were pushing them together, again and again. Perhaps it was always leading to this. “Doctor, how do you feel?” she asked quietly.  
“Better.” He breathed. “My head isn’t pounding anymore. It’s getting easier to keep you in there.” He opened his eyes and looked down into hers, a smile tracing along his lips. “There’s a war going on in my mind and I’m winning.”  
They were kissing again, slowly, gently, with as much passion as before but with less desperation. She felt his hand against her cheek once more and his thumb brushed away a silent tear. She gripped the lapels of his jacket as though he were the only thing holding her to the earth. He held her softly, but firmly, refusing to let her go for anything. As far as she was concerned, she didn’t want him to.  
Years of unspoken words, of passing touches, of stolen glances and hidden meanings, of death, of suffering, of losing and finding one another again, and four and a half billion years all tumbled into their kiss and swallowed them both. “I love you.” She murmured against his lips for the second time, only this time, they weren’t in the deep dark Cloisters. He deepened his kiss in response, his hands tightened around her waist and something close to a low moan reverberated from his chest. She pulled away, finally, and looked him in the eyes. “And you remember me?”  
A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, “How could I ever forget you?”  
Despite lacking a pulse, Clara felt her body tremble. She bit her lower lip coyly raised a hand. With a swift snap of her fingers, the lock on the door to the room clicked. He seemed to grasp her intentions immediately and walked her backwards towards the bed until the backs of her knees bumped up against it. He searched her face, as if asking for permission, even now. His eyebrows rose up timidly as she smiled at him and nodded, her hand resting along his cheek in their silent bond of trust and love.  
He eased her back so she was lying atop the bed, and he hovered just above her, looking into her eyes longingly before falling into another deep kiss as his hand trailed up her thigh. The sensation made her tremble and her breath catch, his touch felt so right, after all this time. Her arms moved to wrap around his neck and pull him closer to her, fingers dusting once again through his feather soft curls, which he seemed to like far too much. His hand came to her waist and his cool fingers traveled up beneath her jumper and ghosted along her skin. This, too, made her shiver and a soft and trembling whimper fell over her lips and into his, which he swallowed whole.  
His fingers brushed along her individual ribs, taking far too long for her liking. He was teasing her, making her absolutely mad and he’d done nothing to her but touch her skin. Finally, she felt his hands move down to the hem of her jumper and lift it up and over her head, which she happily obliged. In her eagerness, she sat up on her elbows momentarily to unhook her bra for him. He seemed to find her boldness amusing, and he gently pushed her back down against the bed before she could shimmy out of that, too. Tenderly, his hands snaked the bra straps down over her shoulders and off of her arms. Cool air reached her breasts when he removed it with deft fingers, and she inhaled. She bit her lower lip as his head moved down to hover over her chest, his breath warm and tingly. When his mouth enveloped her left breast, her head craned back against the bed and she let out a fluttered sigh. His tongue circled her hardening nipple, and to her extraordinary surprise, considering he’d been so impossibly gentle with her up until that moment, he bit down into her soft flesh, hard enough to elicit a gasp from her, but not soft enough to not break the skin.  
That was it. Panting with need, she shoved his shoulders so he was thrown off of her and onto his back beside her, where she quickly pounced. Her hands pulled his jacket off of him as she kissed him without gentleness, their teeth knocked together and she bit and tugged at his lower lip. Before he could attempt to regain control, she was straddling him, her hands ripped his shirt open and buttons went flying.  
“C-Clara—“the Doctor fumbled, attempting caution but she could feel his painful arousal through his pants. She ground against him, and that seemed to nearly send him over the edge. She realized she loved watching his eyes roll back as he lost all control, helpless beneath her. Her mouth was on his neck, sucking until he cried out breathlessly. When she finished, she raked her teeth along the new and overly sensitive hickey with a sense of pride, which made him convulse beneath her. Clara’s hands trailed down his taut chest and down towards his trousers. His head bolted up off of the bed to look at her, panting.  
“How long have you wanted this, Doctor?” she asked as her fingers opened the button slowly, “How many times have you fantasized about me?” her hand stroked him along his rather impressive length through his pants and he let out another moan as his head fell back once more into the bed, every nerve in his body quivering, his fingers twitching at the air as if he had a guitar in his hand.  
“Clara…” he whispered, but could say no more as her hand moved to massage his tip through his pants and he shook anew. “P-please—“  
“You like that?” her hand moved in quick, small circles over him. The sensation must have been unbearable through the fabric of his pants, his face was screwed up in a perfect mixture of agonizing pleasure and pain. “Would you like me to take these off?”  
“Yes…” his voice caught in her throat as she squeezed his tip, cutting him off.  
“Yes what?” she asked playfully. She was loving this too much, and clearly he was as well.  
“Yes please.” He gasped quickly. “Please, Clara, please.”  
She undid his zipper slowly, the sound turning both of them on. Her hands pushed his trousers down his thighs, and without preamble, his boxers with them. His manhood was on complete display before her, fully erect and glistening at the tip. She felt herself get impossibly wetter, but she had the protection of her pants and underwear to hide it, unlike him. She leaned down and blew very gently on his red tip, and he squirmed beneath her. She smiled, and her tongue darted out tentatively, and this elicited a hissing noise from between his teeth. She experimented in this teasing manner with her lips and tongue and breath until he was in a constant state of shaking, his breathing coming hard. When she knew she held him on the edge for too long, she enveloped him with her mouth and sucked as hard as she could. He cried out a slew of jumbled curses in ecstasy—oh yes, she liked having this sort of power over him.  
“I—“ he swallowed hard as she bobbed her head and rubbed the rest of his length with her free hand. “Clara, that feels—oh god!” His hips bucked of their own accord and she let him go, sitting back to admire him panting and gasping and shaking, so close to release.  
“You look good.” She smirked, admiring the absolute state he was in; hair rumpled, face drawn tensely, pupils dilated with desire, muscles twitching and fingers digging into the bedclothes as he stared up at her. His eyes flashed and in the span of a heartbeat she was flipped onto her back and he was atop her once more, his hands pulling her pants roughly down to her ankles and off, flinging them across the room. The only thing separating them were her thin lace underwear. His head ducked and he let his tongue leave a wet trail just above her waistband before he blew cold air along it. Her body jerked at the sensation and suddenly she felt one of his cool fingers hooking beneath her underwear and he slowly started pulling it down, revealing her to him entirely. But he wasn’t looking at her sex, he was holding her gaze, searching her eyes, as if, after all of this, she would still push him away. She smiled gently at him and nodded so slightly, and that was the last of the confidence he needed.  
His head nestled between her legs and before she could do anything, she felt his fingers spreading her open and his tongue flicked out and danced along her throbbing clit. Her head slammed back into the bed and she let out a cry as his lips began to suck. Galaxies flashed before her eyes as she tried desperately to keep a hold on herself as his tongue and mouth worked her insistently. Her thighs quivered and she moaned as her nails dug into his hair and scalp desperately. When she felt herself teetering on the edge of release and her own consciousness, he stopped, leaving her panting and wracked with full body tremors. Her eyes refocused and she looked down at him wondering why in the universe he’d stopped. Her stomach seemed to warm in anticipation when she saw him sitting up to position himself at her entrance.  
“Are you ready, Clara Oswald?”  
“I’m ready, Doctor.” She smiled, and he leaned down to kiss her as his member slid inside of her. Their moans mixed together in each other’s mouths as the sensation of bliss overcame them both. Her hands curled up behind his back and neck as he began to rock into her slowly, in and out, each thrust sending her closer to the end of her sanity. He felt so right inside of her. Stretching her just enough to hold her on the precipice between delicious pain and pleasure. She felt her orgasm rising up within her and her whimper grew louder the closer it got until it slammed into her like a tidal wave and she was left keening against him, convulsing and bucking beneath him. He seemed to be waiting for her to finish first—what a gentleman—and when she cried out, he released within her, letting out a hoarse and trembling gasp.  
They lay tangled with one another, panting and staring into each other’s eyes when they started to recover from their excruciating pleasure. His hand cupped her face and kissed her gently. When he pulled away, his eyes were soft and smiling.  
They found fresh clothes in a wardrobe in the room, TARDIS’s were so good about predicting future needs. Clara left him lightly dozing in the bed when she crept out of the bedroom to find the kitchen.  
Ashildr sat at a table there, and Clara halted short; she’d entirely forgotten about her. “Ashildr,” she greeted awkwardly. The immortal girl merely stared at her. Clara walked to the icebox to find something to eat.  
“He’s awake.” The girl stated. Clara firmly kept her gaze to the contents of the fridge.  
“Yeah, just woke up.”  
“So you can let him go now.”  
Clara’s appetite vanished instantly. “It’s not that simple.”  
“It didn’t work.”  
Clara closed the icebox door and turned to look at her quizzically. “How did you—“  
“I’d have to be deaf not to hear you two going at it. ‘Oh Clara, my Clara’.” She imitated mockingly.  
Clara felt her face flush twelve shades of crimson. “I’ve been thinking—we’ll be careful from now on. No more end of the universe stuff.”  
Ashildr rose from the table and walked towards Clara until she stood in front of her. “No. You two are like fire and gasoline. Nothing will keep you two apart if you remember each other. You have to let him go.”  
“Ashildr—“  
“You were given a second chance just now and you only proved that I’m right. He fought against losing his memories with every part of himself for you. He can’t let you go, Clara. He will never let you go. You have to be the one to end it.”  
“I’ll talk to him,” Clara pleaded, her eyes stinging, “I’ll make him see that he can’t go so far to protect me, I’ll—“  
“Clara!” Ashildr roared. “He nearly destroyed the universe for fear of losing you! He won’t ever stop! What will happen the next time you get yourself hurt? Or killed again? Clara, who will be there to stop him from ending all of time and space? As long as you’re in his head, he will never let you go. Not for anything.”  
Her words hit Clara hard because she knew they were right. She wiped a hand over her crying eyes. “What am I supposed to do?” she sniffed. “He remembers me. The neural block didn’t work.”  
“It was faulty,” Ashildr said, her voice gentler now that Clara understood. “When you used the glasses on it, it damaged it.” The immortal girl reached into her pocket and pulled something out. Clara felt her blood run cold. “This is a new one. This TARDIS had a workshop with several of these lying about. I checked it with the glasses, it works.” She held it out to Clara to take. “You have to do it, Clara. He can’t stay like this. As long as he remembers you he will never stop protecting you. You both did it together and it didn’t work and now you have to do it to him again.”  
Clara’s hands shook. “I can’t.”  
“You must. To protect the universe and everyone in it. He’ll forget, and move on. You will, too.”  
She was right. She was so right. With trembling numb fingers, she reached out and took the neural block from Ashildr’s firm grasp. She swallowed hard. “Is there any other way?”  
The immortal girl stared at her in mute response. Clara closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, bracing herself.  
She turned and left, walking down the twisting halls of this new TARDIS with the neural block heavy in her hand like lead, her brain screaming and crying, her stilled heart freezing over. Her hand found the bedroom door and with unfeeling fingers she opened it and closed it quietly behind her, resting her head against the coolness of the door.  
“Clara,” she heard him from behind. His voice was like a distant dream. When she didn’t turn around, he sat up in bed, “What is it?”  
She slowly moved to face him, feeling as though the world were weighing her down. His smiling eyes met her red and puffy ones, and they faltered. His eyes traveled down to the neural block in her hands, and his face went deathly pale. “Clara…please. What’s wrong?”  
“It was faulty.” Clara whispered, her voice hollow, “This one will work.”  
The Doctor was on his feet in a second, caution in his face. “What are you saying?”  
She looked up at him morosely. “You said yourself this has to stop. One of us has to go. It has to be you, Doctor.”  
Realization dawned on him, and with it, panic. “Clara—Clara please, don’t do this, please–”  
Her vision clouded as more tears fell. How could a person feel so numb and in so much pain at one time? “You have to go.”  
He was before her in two strides, holding her shoulders. “Clara, listen to me; I’ll be good, I won’t end the world over you ever again, I learned my lesson, please, Clara I can’t lose you.” His finger gently lifted her chin up to look at him, and his voice broke as he repeated with sparkling eyes, “I can’t lose you.”  
She wrenched her head away from his hand and he blinked at her as though her action had physically hurt him. “Exactly.” She said with as much strength as she could muster as she stared into his eyes fiercely. She reached up swiftly with her free hand and seized his still resting her shoulder and placed the neural block in his hand. He tried to pull away in fear, but she held him steadfast. She had to hold his arm in such a way that his knees ended up buckling beneath him as he let out a cry of pain and tears in the throes of utter anxiety. She held his thumb over the button on the neural block, telling herself this is what she needed to do to save the universe, that this is what they had both agreed, that this is what they wanted.  
“Clara, my Clara please—please don’t do this, please!” he wept, and his voice was like an ice pick in her heart and a roaring fire in her ears. Looking up at her he was so weak, so afraid, and betrayed.  
She shook her head as she gripped his wrist with one hand and held his thumb against the button with the palm of her other. “I love you, Doctor.” She whispered and as she slammed her palm down on his thumb so it pressed the button, her lips crashed into his and she kissed him with all the desperation she felt. Their tears mingled in unison as he sobbed into her mouth, the neural block clattering to the floor. His hands held her face and the two of them fell to the floor together as the neural block made his muscles give out. His breathing came in gulps, and she pulled away from the kiss to see his eyes grow wide and cloud as he stared at her as intermittent confusion muddled his brain.  
“Clara, listen to me,” his voice was haggard. “Don’t let this be the last I ever see of you.”  
A tear fell from her face onto his. “But you won’t know me.”  
“I don’t want this to be your last memory of me.” His face screwed up in pain for a moment and he shut his eyes against it. “Promise me. Please.”  
She nodded, her mouth twisted in agony. “I promise.” She whispered. He brushed his hand along her face, and a slight smile flickered on his lips as he looked up at her weakly. His eyes closed and his head fell back, and Clara Oswald held him to her tightly as she wept into his chest.


End file.
